𓆏 how you doin', explorer? woah ... no need to get all shaky, 'kay? just gonna throw some easy questions your way! nothing too serious — standard procedure, comprende? so, first things first: lucas sakamoto, 25, former camper ? awesome, awesome ... you wrote in your application that ─ oh my! ─ you see yourself as supremely chill and supremely lazy? sheesh, talk about a killer combo. oh, yeah, and let's not forget your abilities: collecting cassette tapes (especially for niche punk bands), skateboarding, watching horror films, cooking genuinely excellent meals, rolling the perfect doobie. well, aren't you just a jack of all trades? but even the strongest oak in the forest has a soft spot, right? becoming your parents and being entirely alone ... woah, hey, this is a judgment free zone! scout's honor! welp, looks like we're ready to wrap this up. ah, wait! knew i was forgetting something. remember to slip a well-loved stash tin with a rolling tray into your bag. oh, how do i know about that? pssht, you told me, silly! see you 'round camp.
full name – lucas sakamoto.
nickname(s) – luc-ASS, sock.
age – 25 (november 28.)
gender – cis man (he/him).
sexuality – bisexual.
APPEARANCE!
faceclaim – nico hiraga.
eyes – brown.
hair – black, curly, and often messy and untamed.
height – 5'9.
build – he's pretty stocky, with strong arms and legs from skating. you wouldn't be able to tell, though, as he's usually hidden under layers of baggy clothing.
features – arms and legs littered with bumps and bruises, big bushy eyebrows, a variety of scars of different shapes and sizes.
style – giant jeans, baggy graphic tees, beat-up chunky skate shoes, long sleeves under t-shirts, beanies, long torn-up jorts, socks with a bunch of holes.
PERSONALITY!
positive – agreeable, calm, courageous, fun-loving, sociable.
neutral – absentminded, boyish, freewheeling, mellow, unhurried.
negative – aimless, careless, childish, disorganized, impulsive.
interests – skateboarding, smoking weed, cooking, listening to skate punk, collecting cassettes, reading comics, watching cartoons.
aesthetic – the sound of wheels hitting concrete, tendrils of smoke curling in the air, a room full of noise and laughter, scraped and bloodied knees, fingers coated in chip dust, a beloved cartoon character drawn with red eyes and a joint, a bong filled with lake water, large shirts and even larger pants, a television left on for white noise. ( pinterest )
QUICK FACTS!
lucas is an only child from a wealthy family, with career-driven parents who had a baby out of obligation rather than real desire. he’s a massive failure in their eyes, but he never really had much of a chance to ever impress them, so he’s gone full in on being an embarrassment.
he signed on to be a counselor mostly by force. he’s been a community college student for five years now, using “i’m in school” as an excuse to not get a job. his parents are fully fed up, so they put his ass to work. it was fortuitous that one of his favorite places from childhood was seeking counselors for its reopening, and the camp’s tragic past was certainly not a deterrent for him.
as far as development goes in the wake of slasher shenanigans, he will certainly be forced to take things more seriously, which he has been very averse to because taking things seriously is for squares (like his parents). i want him to have to confront his fears head-on, and step up to the plate and be responsible for once in his life. the goal is to begin as a typical 90s skater/stoner who is solely focused on living in a constant dopamine rush, and hopefully move toward becoming someone more vulnerable and dependable.
.ᐣ.ᐟ + @loststares , their smoking duties at staff week .
boredom could drive a regular man to insanity. mads had no clue what such a feeling could do to him — he couldn't get worse, right? his mind was always racing and ready to start another race altogether. giving space to such a feeling was wrong though, and doing something about it always strikes as the only source of peace. to the art building he went, ready to face his artistic side again and prove to cierra that practice indeed makes perfect. the painting they did together rested far away from the main door, and mads was ready to grab some tools before getting to it. a noise woke his fight or fight response, and he turned with fists raised to a very far away lucas — not even reed richards would get him. “ lucas, is that you? puff your blunt three times if you are my grass friend. the fuck are you doing here, mate? ”
he sits up, bleary-eyed and slow—much slower than he should be moving, really, with mads currently ready to throw hands (albeit, from much too far away to make contact.) if this were any kind of real threat, he’d be absolutely fucked. but again, it’s just mads, whose eyes are momentarily wide with genuine shock.
obviously, lucas is not in here for the sake of art. (he can barely draw a dog—they all come out looking like fucked-up horses.) no, all he was doin’ was taking a massive, what-year-is-it type nap, nestled in an especially comfortable corner, wooden floorboards warmed by rays of filtered sun.
“heyyyyy buddy,” his initial surprise—which, again, should’ve been far more profound—has now mellowed into a wide, stupid smile, eyes glassy with post-nap stupor. “just, uh, nappin’. s'quiet in here, and i slept like shit last night.” he doesn’t elaborate further—everyone knows how tough it can be to sleep comfortably at camp. (and that's without all the ouija board shenanigans.) “whadda ‘bout you? tryin’ to be the next, uh… michaelangelo?” only in his knowledge bank because of the turtles, duh.
thalias eyes widened as a figure rounded the corner of the building. had someone found her hiding spot already? she relaxed a little, however, as she realised that it was lucas. she hadn't properly spoke to him since they'd returned to camp. she hadn't realised that things would feel so ... weird between them. she was so excited to see him but there was a different sort of energy that hadn't been there the last time the two of them had been together. she'd tried writing to him. she'd wanted to keep in touch, make sure that neither missed out on one anothers lives but after most of them went unanswered, she wasn't sure what exactly to do. as the other went to speak, thalia held her finger up to her lip. “ shh shh shh. ” thalia giggled as she looked to lucas. “ i'm supposed to be doing some first aid training right now but ... ” she shook her head. “ the idea of it was making me feel a little queasy so i'm hiding. please don't tell anyone! ”
he’s also attempting to escape his assigned duties—at least, for long enough to take a quick hit, maybe munch on a snack (his stomach has been rumblin’ something fierce for the past hour). but when he rounds the corner to what he’d established as his hiding spot, he finds someone already leaning against the wall. he wouldn’t’ve minded regardless of who it was—great minds think alike, after all—but he can’t help the smile that spreads upon seeing thalia.
yeah, the vibes have been a little weird, and he did leave nearly a dozen of her thoughtful letters ignored (truly due to dumbassedry and not malice), but he’s never been one to hold onto the past. and if he knows one thing about thalia, it’s that she’s on a similar wavelength.
her giggles let him know he’s on the right track.
“hey, your secret’s safe with me.” he holds up his hands, grin spread nearly ear to ear. “besides, i came here to hide, too. thought no one else knew about this spot, but shoulda known i’d find you here.”
he plops down unceremoniously in the dirt beside her, pulling his stash tin from an outrageously large jean pocket. “y’want some?"
cabin two smells like absolute shit. more specifically, it smells like an emaciated, rabid skunk crawled into the deepest nook of the cabin walls it could find, and died after releasing one last eye-watering spray. gen’s pacing around her room, which is entirely full of belongings yet entirely void of counselors, shirt over her nose as she audibly curses jamie for not being there.
there’s not much left to do after she drops her two duffels and backpack off. after the unpacking comes the adventure, right? the only thing she can think of immediately is getting outside, away from whatever putrid stench was seeping into the walls of cabin two.
blue eyes still peeking out above her blue jumper, she exits room two, deciding to take a quick peek at the names scribbled on lined paper taped to the door just across the hall in a very ransom-note-esque manner. mads – good, she thinks, someone she won’t immediately have the urge to strangle until their eyes pop. her eyes travel down, down the short list of names, until her heart drops through her ass and to the floor.
sakamoto, l.
fuck. so that’s what (or rather, who) reeks. without even needing to think, she turns on her heel, ready to bolt before she’s caught staring at the satisfying swoop of the ballpoint ‘s’ for too long—
and smacks right into the green giant himself. “fuck,” she mutters, lower half of her face popping free from her makeshift scent barrier. “oh, fuck,” she echoes, eyebrows furrowing as she studies lucas like he’s the one who’s changed night and day. “hey, luc.”
lucas was not nearly as perceptive upon arriving at cabin two, taking zero note of who he would be sharing quarters with this summer. he’d simply plopped his shit on the creaky floor—just one ratty backpack, used since high school and littered with holes—and scurried off to get reacquainted with the ol’ stomping grounds.
honestly, it’s not like it matters much who he ends up bunking with—there would be familiar faces, sure, but he doesn’t have any lingering ghosts or scorned exes. he just sees this as an opportunity to reunite with old friends and make new ones. naive? probably.
and he just genuinely did not expect to see her.
he’s mid-jog back to room one, having left behind his much-needed walkman, when he smacks right into her while absentmindedly looping his headphones around his neck. and, honestly? he doesn’t even recognize her at first. she’s now a little less goody-two-shoes and a little more… well. again, he’s not the most perceptive guy, but there’s something kinda sad behind her eyes now. she also just looks… cooler? edgier, maybe? truthfully, he’s having a hard time figuring out what he thinks of her, just standing like a dumbass with his mouth agape.
“oh, shit, uh… hey, gen.” there’s a wide-eyed look, accompanied by an awkward half-wave with the hand that’s gripping his walkman.
after she’d left that summer, he’d thought a lot about what he’d say when (if?) he saw her again. first, there were all the fun stories of what she’d missed out on in the last three weeks of camp. then, there were the questions—mostly just, “you all good?” and “dude, what the hell happened?” but everything eventually just boiled down to “i missed you,” until he eventually stopped thinking about her at all.
and now she’s here, in the flesh, and all he can think to say is: “guess we’re gonna be cabin buddies this summer, huh? that’s… that’s pretty sick. how, uh... how ya been?"
who: open
where: headquarters
time of day: beginning afternoon
testing one's gear could result in many artsy pictures. sometimes it was of forests. sometimes it was of forests but with like, more trees. sometimes it was of forest with like, a ton of trees. but one could get sick of trees, especially when one worked around them all the damn time. so thus this testing time is with the phone at headquarters. but it's through a window. a dingy window? maybe. or was his lens smudged?
good timing on the picture though, as the shadow of another is strolling into his lighting and would have made it that much more moody. and nico reyes was many things, but moody? definitely not.
"you ever think of the irony of like, how this phone is the first and last one that everyone could possibly see before they enter the camp? really pulling you away from the world at large and putting you into these woods, away from everything? or how it's the severed connection between 'what was' and pushes you into the 'what's happening' right now? you feel me? do i make sense?"
lucas has been here for a grand total of twenty minutes, and he's somehow already found the time to sneak away for a quick hit. much easier when there aren't yet kids scurrying about, but still decidedly more difficult when the warm afternoon sun is bearing down, requiring a level of stealth he decidedly lacks. (and making him sweat buckets in his many layers of clothing, but that's besides the point.)
so now there's a suspicious funk about him—if this was a cartoon, he'd most certainly be surrounded by dark green stink lines—and he's sauntering back to headquarters in search of whatever food donna is willing to part with before it's officially dinnertime.
but he's not one to deny a side quest when he stumbles into one, and he is certainly on the right wavelength to engage with this line of questioning. in fact, he's really feeling it. this is, like, classic stoner conversation, down to the you feel me? do i make sense?
"shiiit, dude, for sure, i get you." he replies, eyes wide and locked onto the phone, sitting all by its lonesome. "that's kinda the whole point though, yeah? disconnecting... gettin' into nature." he shrugs a shoulder, pulling his eyes away to meet nico's. "always loved it as a kid, 'cause my mom only called and bothered me like, once every summer, and i could just hang up and blame it on bad connection if she started askin' if was eatin' my vegetables."
